A Wedge of Lemon with my Tea
by Hikari no Chibi
Summary: Modern Day AU RumBelle - Companion to "Tea with the Devil." You don't have to read one to enjoy the other, per se, but it will definitely help.
1. Chapter 1

_Lemons, because you asked nicely. As an aside, this is Mr. Gold's fantasy. If Belle seems a little off, well... it's his prerogative to dream. Part of the "Tea with the Devil" continuity._

Gold really didn't know how he made it through the night.

Catching her warm body in his arms as his driver made a sudden lurch forward had been sheer delight. If it also hadn't caught him completely by surprise, he might have managed to turn the situation to his advantage and brought her back home with him tonight.

His town home was large and lavish, filled entirely with antiques. He had the advantage of living in one of the quieter Old Guard neighborhoods. It wasn't necessarily the most fashionable street, but it lent him a certain level of respectability that did not come cheaply. Belle would like it here, someday.

As it was, they'd spent a perfectly normal night in the company of his colleagues. He stood all night, and his leg ached. She stayed by his side, though, and touched his arm gently when his physical pain started to manifest verbally. The proximity was going to kill him.

He turned on the jets of his over-sized jacuzzi to sooth his sore knee, and considered, briefly, the bottle of pain killers he kept on hand for nights like these. He didn't like to take them. They didn't dull his senses terribly, but the part of him that remembered cold Glasgow rain and feared every day that all of his work would slip away... the part that remembered what it looked like when desperation claimed a grieving father... that part of Anthony Gold treated his pain like a personal cilice-cicatrix. It reminded him how much he could lose. Belle. He could lose Belle, too.

If he'd yearned for her before, then this was absolute burning. Anthony Gold was not a patient man. He could scheme and plot and lay out the workings of deals that wouldn't see the sunlight for months, or years if he had to, but those were not baited traps. Those were certainties. With Belle, nothing was certain. All he knew for sure was that he would have her on his terms, passionate and strong, or not at all. There would be no drunken caressing or tentative kissing for Annabelle French, the beast wanted her alive and clawing.

This was the direction his thoughts took him as he leaned back into the tub.

Belle was here. She smelled like that familiar combination of oil paint and rose water that he liked so much, the paints like a small pricking thorn against something that was otherwise so sweet. She smiled, something he'd said, probably. Her curls were half pinned up, half cascading down, and she wore only an ivory slip.

"Do you mind some company, Anthony?" He loved it when she used his first name.

Gold could feel himself becoming hard in the hot, swirling vortex of the tub; he needed a release. He could call someone. A brunette. She would be here within the hour, probably. He didn't mind paying, not when it guaranteed that they would leave quietly.

But his thoughts were full of one woman only, and a poor substitute who smelled like Chanel and cigarettes would not help his mood.

"Anthony?" His Belle was back again. "I said, do you mind some company?"

"Oh, Belle... please."

He took himself in hand and set his mind free.

She stood carefully, and let the thin straps of her slip fall around her arms. Then, slowly – painfully, excruciatingly slow – she pulled the pale silk slip down her body. Small, round breasts with pert pink peaks appeared slowly over her neckline, followed by fields of creamy skin stretching all the way past her navel and the gentle contours of her belly.

As the silk pooled around her hips, he almost felt compelled to look away. Instead, he focused o her legs. She was short, but lithe, and her legs had the graceful proportions of good genes that guaranteed they stretched on for miles even though the woman herself stood only a few inches taller than five feet.

Then, she was in the tub. Her thin frame pressed back against him, and she could feel his arousal pressing into her from behind. He had free reign, then, to grasp himself more firmly and imagine what it would be like to have Belle leaning into him like this.

Her neck would arc back, placing her head and falling curls on his shoulder and their faces check-to-cheek. He could devour her, neck first, with a flurry of sucks, nips and bites, and she might even take her own hands and tug at his hair – directing his mouth to her own when she felt the need.

When she started to squirm, he ran his hands up to her chest and start to tease until her flesh hardened and prickled under his fingers. Then he sent a hand to her core, and touched her as he knew she would like best.

Belle like this, breathless and at his mercy, totally overwhelmed his senses. And then she was gone, and all the evidence was swirling down the drain.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, lying awake between her sheets and unable to fall asleep, Belle wondered why she hadn't just invited Anthony upstairs after their date. It was an impulse choice, one she'd even surprised herself by making.

In retrospect, it felt cheap to say "I need less ambiguity," and then follow it up with meaningless sex. And it would have been meaningless. She liked him very much and craved his touch badly, but wasn't quite sure of anything beyond that.

No one had kissed her like that since her grad school days, when her on-again off-again boyfriend and she cut loose with two bottles of wine and a bowl of cold fruit. He'd found her odd too, she knew. It was the chief reason why they'd never become more serious than 'sometimes.' She'd loved him and he her, in a comforting and familiar way, but the final spark of charisma that irrevocably twined lovers lives together never quite snared them. They grew apart and separated.

In the heat of the moment, when Gold was kissing her and barely daring to touch her chest more intimately, Belle knew what he was asking. It was good of him not to make a demand or act on expectation, he gave her an opportunity to refuse. She'd taken it, and he still wanted to see her the next morning. Nothing was ruined.

Yet here she was, thirty minutes later, positively twitching.

As Belle remembered the feel of teeth scraping her lips and nipping on her neck and ear lobe, she let her hands wander the same careful paths as Anthony's. Hip to rib, he'd been entirely at his leisure to explore. She remembered the more desperate clawing down her shoulders when he came to rest at the small of her back and pulled her in closer to him.

Pressed against the brick of her apartment building, bodies flush, he'd tangled them both up in a mess of limbs and hair. Somehow his good leg found its way between her own, and offered her a place to buck her hips. The friction there, satin scraping his starched suit with her hem shoved up had left her with wet panties by the time they were through.

Belle knew she'd got ahead of herself when she found her hands tugging loose his tie and popping open the top two buttons of his shirt, but the excitement of touching him – small hands on hot flesh where she could feel his pulse racing had been overwhelming. He smelled faintly of the car's leather, spice and sweat. She'd wanted to throw him down and roll in it, to taste it on his skin.

In the bed, Belle's breathing was becoming labored again. She let her own hands wander where she'd stopped his, losing herself in the memories and sensations. A soft pinch of her nipples, an imitation of Anthony's firm caress, and she found herself gasping. Her foot gave an involuntary kick that twisted the covers, and Belle let her hands migrate southward as her fantasy took on a life of its own.

They might have compromised. In her mind, she asked him to come inside and they'd made it up exactly half a flight of stairs before he was on her again. They fumbled together onto the landing, and she pulled him into the small alcove where her neighbor liked to drink when he thought no one else was looking.

He lifted her up and placed her on one of half a dozen large packing crates stored there by past residents. She knew just the right pile, two crates tall, that put him at exactly the right height to give her what she wanted.

Kisses started at her knee and turned to long, sucking bites as he pushed up her thigh. The skirt found itself bunched around her hips as he pulled her head down to him for a deliciously sinful kiss.

The look on his face was _the_ look - the one that buckled her knees and made her body ache.

Her dress fell down to set her small breasts free as he gave each one an appreciative nip. His hands were doing miraculous things as his teeth and tongue laved at her chest, and Belle was fast approaching sensory overload. She laced her fingers through his hair and directed him back to her more pressing needs.

They could be gentle and slow some other night. He had her panties off in an instant and buried himself nose-first in her slick, moist heat. Teeth and lips pulled hard on her nub, and she moaned his name in agony – suddenly needing all of him. Clever fingers rejoined his quick tongue, and he used his other arm to hold her hips down as she bucked and groaned. All she needed in the world was for him to keep going.

When his fingers found that magical place inside of her and matched tempo with his wicked mouth, Belle came undone loudly. In a happy, foggy daze, she snuggled herself deep into her pillows.

Not for the first time on his account, Belle felt very glad that she lived alone.


	3. Chapter 3

This was awkward. Really, really awkward. Mary Margaret loved Belle, and she thought it was adorable how hard her boss, Mr. Gold, worked to come off as cool and suave around the young artist. He'd taken to propping his door open at 2:50 each afternoon, in anticipation of her arrival. He had her rush dry-cleaning on shirts and ties that Belle commented on. He never, ever assigned her to do any of Belle's shopping, preferring to place the orders himself. Mary Margaret wasn't even sure he knew that he was doing it, which made it all the more endearing.

Not that it stopped him from being a bastard, but it went a long way towards making him more human.

Nothing had prepared her, however, for the sounds that were now drifting out of his office. It was a toss-up. She didn't know whether to be happy for Belle, because for some reason that she would never understand Mr. Gold made her happy, or if she should run full-stop into David's office and beg him to intervene. Shouldn't someone save Belle from Mr. Gold? Or if not from him, then at least save her from herself.

It was painfully obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that she'd been smitten with the older man for some time. Mr. Gold was less obvious about his infatuation, so much so that most people believed he was in it for the quick gratification. Mary Margaret knew, or suspected that she knew, better than to judge Mr. Gold by his tempers. When Belle was with him, it was like looking at an entirely different person.

If she walked in there, or sent David in to "accidentally" break them up, her boss would flay her alive. Still, it would be a hell of a lot easier to stand by and let them be – Mary Margaret had a pretty good idea that they'd graduated from tea – if she didn't also hear the faintest echoes of thumps and moaning through Mr. Gold's typically ineffective sound-proofing.

Anthony's bad leg was already shaky, but he didn't care. Belle was staying. Belle was his, and he was finally able to have her exactly as he'd fantasized. The pain kept him focused, gave him something to think about other than the wantonly passionate woman seated on his hastily cleared wet-bar.

She must be trying to kill him, it was the only reasonable explanation for the absolute joy he felt at her every moan and sigh.

His jacket and tie had gone away, her panties vanished and her bra was half un-made; he had Belle's hem pushed up high, and she'd ripped at least one of his shirt buttons off in her haste. She deserved slow, seductive and sweet, and some day she would have it – if only she'd stop dragging her teeth over his ear lobe and tugging the hair at his nape.

With the table to support her weight, Gold was free to focus himself entirely on touching and kissing every inch of her that he could reach. Already he had fingers pressed up against her tenderest spots, and would have knelt down to kiss them hello properly if his leg wouldn't have prevented him from getting back up again.

Belle was everything a society woman wasn't supposed to be – she was emotional, natural, sweet, and oh dear lord above she was going to destroy him before they even got started if she didn't stop wrapping her legs around his hips and urging him on with her feet.

He could feel her in his hands, dripping and grinding, and over the rush of blood quickly leaving his brain he thought he even heard her moaning his name. She was close. She had to be close, because not bringing her off was not an option.

When her body started trembling and he felt her walls contracting around his fingers, he slammed himself into her to feel the sensations. The sudden penetration was what she'd been craving, and it sent her hips bucking wildly. He was a breath away from joining her, but he managed to hold himself off and started thrusting into her earnestly.

Age had its advantages, he knew; where a young man might think a woman's pleasure came in a quick burst and finish, Mr. Gold knew once he got Belle started there was no reason she couldn't keep going for as long as he had the stamina to make her. With hard, firm thrusts that set the decanters and cabinets rattling, and with a liberal application of his lips, hands, and teeth, Gold felt himself growling at her neck while her body matched his speed.

Mine. Mine. Mine. His poor little gypsy, now he'd never have the strength to let her go free. The first man who tried to take her away or even looked like he might was going to be in a world of pain.

"Oh God, Belle..." Her legs pulled him in tighter, and he knew that he'd found a spot deep inside of her that she liked from the frantic kisses and sharp nails digging into his back side.

"Anthony..."

Belle's head was tossed back, her hair tousled beautifully, and she wore his love bites up and down her neck. When he felt her body become deliciously, impossibly tight around his cock and heard her moaning his name, his stiff leg wasn't enough to distract him any more. Clinging to each other, tangled up and touching, Gold joined in her delight. It hit him so hard, he thought he might have died. His body rode it out with wild, involuntary thrusts and Belle was kissing him so sweetly that nothing else in the world could possibly matter as long as she stayed by his side.


	4. Chapter 4

_So for anyone who's reading "Just for the Smut," here's a recap: Bae died, Gold grieved, and then we had a happy RumBelle Valentine's Day Date (finally). They are returning to his place after a romantic evening out and far too much waiting. Hope you all enjoy the Lemon-Tea._

Belle's only impression of Gold's home so far was that it had an impossible amount of stairs to navigate if you happened to be joined to another person at the lips. She knew they were leaving a wake of shoes, coats, scarves, gloves and clothing strewn from his garage all the way to the top floor of his town house, but she had no idea that their final destination would be so – for lack of a better word – huge.

He'd converted the entire top floor into a penthouse of sorts, but Belle was not looking at his choice of décor. She was looking at Anthony. His hair was disheveled from her fingers weaving their way through it and he looked nearly ready to pounce on her with his pants obviously tenting. That man was was wearing entirely too many clothes.

Gold wanted to give her the tour, eventually. He rarely brought outsiders into his sanctuary, preferring to conduct his previous liaisons in a neutral spaces like town cars, hotel rooms or – if a woman was particularly lovely – in the guest bedroom down the hall from his main suite. As it was, they were both full of fine wine, good food and entirely too busy shedding clothing on the way to his robust master-suite.

Belle's hands were half way done unfastening his belt, her body perched on the edge of his broad king-size bed, when Gold finally remembered to discard his cane. He was going to worship this woman, do things right for a change, and whether either of them could walk straight in the morning would have to be left to fate.

Suddenly he was left in nothing but his boxers, his erection throbbing, and Belle was looking up at him wearing only a pair of lacy panties and her new necklace. He loved seeing the fine platinum chain looped through the handle of the tiny chipped-cup charm. It was the closest he'd come to stamping her with his name.

"Let me.. get something," he panted, hating how hastily he'd treated her that day in his office. Being hurriedly fucked against his office wet bar and then pushed out into his secretary's waiting room was not the memory Gold wanted to leave her with for their first time. He could un-do what they'd gone through that day any more than Belle could bring back his Bae, but he was going to give her one hell of a night to compare it by.

Gold produced a condom from his bedside table and began unwrapping it awkwardly. "I'm sorry; I should have thought of that last time."

"I'm, ah... On something. For that," Belle supplied. "We don't need.."

"Are you positive, dearie?"

She nodded her assent, and he flung the thing away. Gold was practically growling as he pulled the last pin from her disheveled chignon and set Belle's chestnut curls spiraling down around her face. Belle crawled backwards over the duvet, making room for him to pursue her into the center of the bed, and half a heart-beat later, he was filling his senses with her – with everything.

It would be so easy to love her selfishly. She might not even notice, because all he wanted to do was pin her hands above her head and kiss her from mouth to navel before destroying her panties and devouring her whole. Women liked that, didn't they? But he'd know, and that was enough for him to kiss her passionately and give her hands a chance to do as they pleased.

Belle's hands were everywhere he wanted them to be, tugging his hair, clawing his back, and exploring his chest. He wouldn't last long at this rate. Anthony latched his mouth to a pert nipple and ran his fingers over the damp lace between her legs. She was gasping, moaning. Her creamy flesh was flushed rosy, darker than her usual peach, and Belle's entire body thrust itself up to meet him as he slipped his hand between her skin and the lace to run a finger over her wet opening.

"Anthony.." She'd hitched a leg around his hip, and was drawing him in.

Gold thought his response probably sounded more like a grunt than any semblance of speech, but he knew what he was doing. Slowly, gently. He wanted to give her everything. Still, every time she pressed her soft, sweet hips into his hands and groin, his cock twitched and demanded to be set free. The anticipation would kill them, his body knew. Nothing could save him. Nothing. Except maybe if he plunged himself into Belle's hot, tight body and thrust the full length of his shaft from tip to torso repeatedly. That might do it. Yes, good idea. Lovely.

Belle was flush against him, her body trembling, and he knew she'd come undone under his deft fingers while he was forcing his own body to obey. Softly. Slowy. Say I love you with your actions tonight, since you're still so cowardly.

As Gold moved to replace his hand with his face, Belle's small hand tugged at his nape, pulling him back to her mouth. Anthony wrapped his arms around her and turned both of them onto their sides, face to face, as he petted and kissed her – content to relent his attentions for a few moments and bask in her scent if it meant Belle got what she liked.

"Anthony," she groaned against his lips. "Enough foreplay."

"You deserve..."

"I've been waiting for weeks. Enough. Foreplay." And just like that his brave little gypsy had spun him around in their sultry dance and was sitting atop his hips, legs astride, with her entire body on display.

Gold's cock stood at its full height, throbbing from underneath his silky boxers, nudging Belle's back-side. What could he do? Tonight, he liked what Belle liked, and the new view took his breath away.

"Belle..." He wasn't sure if it was a protest or a prayer, but she silenced him with a kiss anyway. As she pulled his underwear away, the last piece of fabric either of them had in place, Gold had to choke back the urge to beg. Anything, if she would only...

The sound he made when she lowered herself onto him set Belle's insides trembling, and she began riding him frantically, hitting her most sensitive place.

Gold grabbed her hips and helped Belle slam herself against him. He could feel her walls contracting, and the tightness drove him crazy, but if he could just hold on for another few moments then he could bring her off for a third time and she would...

Belle came. She was panting, clawing and screaming his name, and it was all Anthony could do not to join her in one mind-boggling burst, but somehow he held on and kept himself contained. She was still wrapped around him, leaned over, kissing him and getting ready to begin grinding herself against him again, when Gold made his move.

Anthony had Belle on her back, smiling silly and glowing with a fine sheen of sweat; she seemed entirely pleased with herself, so he took the opportunity to run his tongue over the now swollen, glistening nub between her legs. Gold had her mewling for release again, whipped into a frenzy by his tongue, and when he knew she was close he thrust himself back into her and began pumping with his hips.

The taste of her body mingled with his had driven him nearly wild with desire, and he wasn't going to last long, but fortunately Belle's body was responding to him automatically and she was beginning to throb around him again.

Gold screamed, something that may have been words or a name, once upon a time, and buried himself in her as deeply as he could when she finally clamped down around him and began to come again. This time, he came too, in four long belts that rocked his spine from his head and his heart from his chest. He was spent.

He kissed Belle again for good measure before wrapping his arms around her and sinking gracelessly into the pillows. Gold's last cogent thought before sleep was that Belle looked good in his bed. He'd like to see her there more often.


End file.
